Wherever the wind takes me

Taking a deep breath, knowing that within the minute she would be the only voice in her head again, she smiled as best she could after the rather... confusing and troubling ordeal.

Skidding to a stop, he set her down and backed up a bit, eyeing her curiously as he pushed the goggles up onto his head.  “What’s your name, miss?”  He asked.  “Where are you from?”

Then just as quickly she was stationary again and there was nothing around for miles. Wherever he had brought her was perfectly isolated. As soon as he let her go she plopped down, massaging her temples trying to block out his thought.

His hand embraces her gently, gently, slowly—can’t scare her, got to be gentle, like she’s a baby kitten or something—and began to rub his thumb over her knuckles.

But... he was trying to help, he seemed to know how to get her out of this place, get her somewhere quiet. Slowly, her hand closed around his, astounded that the electricity crackling along her digits didn't faze him.

And then, really, as they got on the bridge to go back from Keystone’s side—where Bart’s therapist, the kind aging man he was operated—to Central’s side.  But then the cars had stopped, and the whirlwind had appeared.

Bart pulled off his hoodie automatically—to much wind resistance, as opposed to the dumb t-shirt (one of Wally’s old things, and it had a dumb science pun on it)—and clambered out the door, ignoring Iris’ calls of ‘Bart, get back here!’

Pulling the goggles out of the hoodie, Bart then put them on, slammed the door shut, and took off running, trying to figure out where exactly the whirlwind had come from.  As each microsecond passed, Bart began to grow more and more concerned?

Was it a metahuman?  Was it someone who had escaped from the Light, or the Reach?  Or was it something else entirely?  Skidding to a stop, he stopped less than a foot in front of this rather terrified girl—all blond hair, wind tangled, with wide, terrified green eyes, and that looked a little weird on a girl about his size who could have been from the Bialya-Qurac area, but hey, she looked better than Selima did, so—

"Hey, hey, miss,"  Bart said gently, speaking slowly.  Bless the goggles, for preserving at least some of the secret id, he thought,  "Are you okay?  Are you hurt?  Did that whirlwind that just came through mess you up?  Did you see what happened?"

Then there was flashes and blurs as she pushed on trying her best to escape this maze of reflective buildings and concrete. Streaks of colour eventually blended into a recognisable shape behind the wind and electricity protecting her: a boy.

He seemed blurred, maybe it was the wind, but there was definitely something under the wave of red hair that seemed out of place. She kept running, trying to get away, even if he seemed to just be walking after her.

"Leave me alone." She grunted, trying to focus on keeping her protection up. She batted her eyes and accelerated, why was this boy so much noise. His thoughts were so quick. There were so many words in the space of a second being thrown at her and she had to get away from him until she regained control.

"Nah!" She giggled, "I betcha think those thoughts just as much as anybody."

   I hate to … hurt you after all.”

Send me a ❖ and my muse will kiss yours

//dont teehee me aslkghjd!!

Sheba's lips twisted into a little grin, "Only a kiss on the cheek? I'm insulted." She huffed, crossing her arms with a playful pout.

He remembered his last image of Sheba—was of her laughing, and then crying.  And seeing Sheba in front of him, in the here and now, made Ivan wonder, if for a moment, if this wasn’t another dream.  He’d never imagined, not in his wildest fantasies, that his sister would grow up to be this beautiful young woman in front of him.

Of course, Ivan had also always imagined that Sheba’d be all dimples and laughter forever in his head.  But seeing this young woman, in a dress, attached to the name of Sheba of Anemos, made Ivan’s heart almost skip a few beats.

But things had changed, she could no longer show that joy as openly, she was royalty now, she had standards and appearances to hold up. Emotion for her brother could not be shown.

"It has." She answered, with that same sterile smile, "I'm glad to have you again." Be it as personal servant or brother, she was delighted to have him back.

Even if it wasn't quite him, this was a completely different young man from the boy she'd grown up with. She barely recognised him, even if he looked so much like her. Maybe she thought he'd be the little boy with his crooked smile all his life.

But no, here he was, a handsome young man, as her personal confidant, having higher power than all of the nobles in his new station.

"Ivan!" She yelled, thrusting her hands foreward despite the searing pain and unleashed a volley of plasma at the monster. It quickly recoiled and she fell into his embrace again.

there was once another time, in another place, an e v i l kingdom whom no person dared to face and the ruler was a girl so mean a tiny little princess, of only age f o u r t e e n

The kingdom of Lalivero had ruled prosperously for many generations.  The rulers, the supposed god-children of the Anemoi, whom had long departed Weyard, had powers of gods, and were loved and feared as such.  But our story takes place at the end of the kingdom of Lalivero, in a time and place forgotten from history.

For the kingdom of Lalivero had one tradition that was now long forgotten: only one child of each generation would be allowed to be considered a noble—a daughter or son of the Anemos itself—and the other would forever be considered a servant to the noble sibling.  In the case of multiple siblings, born one at a time, the eldest was declared the noble, and only in the case of their death would another sibling be declared the noble that was next in line for the throne.

Of course, Lalivero had never had twins, or triplets before that survived long enough for this to be a concern.  So when the young twins—both heirs in their own right—Ivan and Sheba had come of the appropriate age to be named heirs, at the age of five, there was one very important concern:

Which twin would it be?

It had taken two moons full of debate before it had finally been decided.  Sheba would be the next heir to Lalivero, and Ivan would be her servant.  After all, not only had Sheba been born first in the case of these two twins, but she had a fortitude of the physical and mental kind her twin did not.

So the gathering of the court had decided to separate them as soon as possible, having to physically pull the twins away from one another, bringing Sheba inside as she got to glimpse her twin being led to a carriage, away from her.

And until the two twins were fourteen, neither saw the other.  However, as tradition dictates, when the young prince or princess was fourteen, they were led to be crown prince or princess, and their servant would be introduced, if there was a small enough age difference.  As such, after Sheba’s ceremony had been finished, she had been re-introduced to her twin, now a young man who had been trained in both personal service, along with the intricacies of the court work, along with a few other, more nefarious purposes, in case the young Crown Princess dictated it be so.

As such, Ivan didn’t meet his sister’s eye, as he knew his place according to custom.  He merely bowed to her—wearing her colours, of course—and said softly,  ”Your Highness, I am Ivan, your servant.”

In truth, he was delighted to see Sheba again, but having spent nearly a decade apart, he was unsure if they would be able to have as close of a bond they did in childhood.  Nervousness grasped at his throat, causing it to tighten nervously.

His voice was so different from how she remembered it. Gone where the squeaky tones and happy giggles of the boy she once called brother, replaced by a smooth simple voice.

A quick "You may rise." Came from her and he quickly rose to his feet and backed to the side with the nobles who had taken him in for training.

The ceremony wrapped up and the nobles left one by one, leaving the new Crown princess alone with her servant, her brother, for the first time in almost ten years.

Her eyes went wide at his words, she too had missed him desperately, she still saw him in her own dreams, every day in the mirror. They still looked so alike.